


Upkeep

by plothound



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Plug, Armor, Armor Kink, BDSM, Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bondage, Chastity Device, Clothing, Cock Cages, M/M, Master & Servant, Master/Servant, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 06:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18911731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plothound/pseuds/plothound
Summary: A manservant performs his noble master's usual nightly ablutions, which differ from the norm in several interesting ways.





	Upkeep

Lord Turnesly was a formidable man. Physically impressive, yes, tall and well-built with a forbiddingly grim countenance, clad always in the black and gold of his house, but behind his worldly form was the threat of an army, for Lord Turnesly held the command of the joint forces of the western marches. And behind that army was the political, legal, and economic might of all the western houses, a strength great enough to keep foes at a distance. Not as comfortable a distance as the houses might have hoped, perhaps, but room enough to prepare a defense should a foe move to strike.

 

Until such time as that, Lord Turnesly was in charge of ensuring that the marches’ fist was ready to strike or defend as needed. It had been several years since anyone had made a move in their direction, and without war, armies were prone to growing soft and complacent. That would not happen here.

 

“And  _ shift!”  _ Turnesly barked as he stalked between the neatly arranged squares of men, his hands clasped behind his back. The way he leaned, combined with the dark mane of hair that swept back from his hook-nosed face, brought to mind an elderly, bad-tempered heron. Well, perhaps not a heron, reflected his manservant, Jan, as he hurried behind his master, bearing a dark helm, a quill, a small bottle of ink, and the book of records for this legion. Turnesly was too large and solid for that, even if his face was gaunt. An eagle? Maybe, if the eagle were big and cantankerous enough.

 

“Thrust!” Turnesly roared, and Jan shied nervously away from the synchronized plunge of spears. He’d spent much of the past six years in the middle of drilling armies like this one, and he’d followed his lord into battle as needed, but the sound of that many blades slicing through the air, that many shouts from that many throats, that many booted feet striking the earth, never failed to frighten him. He nearly dropped the ink as he recovered his footing.

 

“And  _ back!” _

 

The soldiers drew back and planted the butts of their spears into the hard-packed dirt of the square in a great flurry of shifting armor and feet.

 

“Sloppy,” Turnesly growled. “Sloppy!” He turned into a row between companies and strode down it until he reached a soldier who seemed no different from the others, where he stopped and loomed over the man. “You! You think the southerners will give a damn that you brought your spear down on your own foot?” He opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by a muffled giggle.

 

Jan shuddered inwardly as Lord Turnesly seemed to inflate like an angry cat, drawing himself up. When the lord swept over to the man who had laughed, Jan winced at the sight of his face, dark with fury.

 

“You think it’s funny?” Turnesly’s hoarse voice made the offending soldier shrink back in a way that his physical proximity hadn’t, and it only grew louder. “You’ll find it funny, then, when your comrade-in-arms is struck down? Of course you will, for you’ll assign blame to his own failings. Well, you’ll be  _ wrong!”  _ He drove a gauntleted finger into the soldier’s chest. It was not forceful, but it startled the man, and he staggered backward so sharply that he fell.

 

Turnesly’s face contorted with disgust. “It’ll be  _ your  _ fault.” He pointed back at the first soldier without looking, resembling nothing so much as a condemning Death. “That man is your brother, by oath and blade, and it is  _ your duty  _ to ensure he is skilled enough to stand with this army. You lot ought to be helping each other train, not mocking each other.”

 

It was starting to rain. Turnesly ignored it. “I want four more repetitions of that drill, and I want each of them to be perfect. Any company whose members do not perform properly will have to repeat the exercise. Understood?”

 

By the time the last company finally completed the drill successfully, shaking with exhaustion, it was pouring, and the light rapidly fading. Jan made the appropriate notation next to their entry in the logbook with frozen fingers, Turnesly glared ferociously at the head of the company for a few long seconds before dismissing them with a reminder to file out in an orderly fashion, and Jan helped his master onto a charger as dark and formidable as he was. They made their way back to the fort, about a mile distant, and then it was off to the fort kitchens to acquire supper for Turnesly and a hunk of bread for himself, while the lord settled himself.

 

When he made it to his master’s rooms, Turnesly was standing in front of the fire, which was rapidly building up into a proper blaze. Without looking, he growled, “Set it aside and fetch water for a bath.”

 

“Yes, my lord,” Jan said with a bow. He wasn’t familiar with the fort yet—this would be his first night here, though he thought that Turnesly had visited before, some years ago—and he had to enlist a kitchen boy to help him find both the kitchen well and buckets. Then, for good measure, he had the boy run the water upstairs as he drew it, that his lord might enjoy a bath sooner. 

 

He brought the last two buckets up himself, and heated them before the fire before adding them to his master’s tub. Then he sprinkled in a few sweet-smelling herbs from a pouch on the mantelpiece. “My lord?” he called quietly. “Your bath is ready.”

 

There was a heaving sigh from the bedroom, and Turnesly came in, setting a book down on a low cabinet as he did. He stood in front of the bath and raised his arms a little in expectation. Jan hurried over to begin removing his armor and clothing.

 

“They’re not bad,” Turnesly said abruptly as Jan unbuckled his vambraces. “Untried, most of them, but they’ve some sense of dignity and a will to work.”

 

“You’ll make warriors out of them yet, my lord,” Jan said, carefully setting each piece on the side table as he removed it. 

 

“Mm.” Turnesly lapsed into silence for a while, his brow furrowed.

 

Jan waited it out. His master was prone to… contemplation was the wrong word. That implied a sort of serenity, and serenity was a quality that Turnesly had never possessed. Still, one of the advantages of being a servant was that you were very rarely expected to say much of anything, which suited Jan down to the ground. He removed the cuirass.

 

“They’ll be all right,” Turnesly said.

 

Jan nodded as he unlaced the gambeson and helped his master out of it. “I’m sure they will, my lord.”

 

Turnesly harrumphed and shrugged out of his own doublet and shirt. He was pale beneath his clothing, and with the onset of middle age had come a bit of extra girth round the stomach, and a bit of sag to the skin, but he was still quite fit, with the broad shoulders and deep chest of a young man. A powerful neck, too, from supporting a helm. No, there was no danger of Turnesly falling ill, even after a day out in the cold and rain. Jan rather envied him that—he had a bit of a sniffle himself.

 

When the belt came off, so did the chausses, and then came the breeches. Jan folded each article and set the undergarments aside to be laundered before he helped Turnesly into the linen-lined wooden tub, which was still steaming invitingly.

 

Turnesly sighed as he lowered himself in, and his pale skin, rather gray from the extended cold, quickly flushed a healthy rose. “Good lad,” he said appreciatively. 

 

“Thank you, my lord.” Jan picked up a cloth, soaked it in hot water, and began on his master’s hair. “Are the herbs to your liking?”

 

Turnesly shrugged. “One’s like another.” Then, after a pause: “Perhaps a touch more sage next time.”

 

“As you like, my lord.”

 

They continued in companionable silence for a while. Turnesly liked to be cleaned firmly, always insisting that Jan work the cloth with more pressure, the better to soothe aching tissues, and tonight was no exception. Jan had to reroll his sleeves twice after vigorous scrubbing caused them to slide down. He didn’t mind. A happy lord in the bath was greatly preferable to an irritable lord out of it. 

 

When Jan at last finished his lord’s legs, Turnesly shifted his weight, settling a little deeper into the bath with a hint of discomfort. 

 

“Is it time for that, my lord?” Jan asked as he wrung out the cloth.

 

“Yes, I think so,” Turnesly said. He leaned back against the side of the tub, arms draped over the sides, and shifted his hips a little. “I’m quite stiff tonight, I’m afraid. It’ll take a while.”

 

“Don’t worry yourself about that, my lord,” Jan said. “It’s my duty.” He shrugged out of his jerkin and stripped to his breeches. Lord Turnesly’s evening sessions could get a bit messy, and his clothes still needed to dry from the rain—no need to get bathwater on them as well. “I trust you’d prefer to remain in the bath?”

 

“Yes, it’s really quite pleasant in here. Most warming.”

 

“Noted, my lord.” Jan knelt on the rug next to the bath and examined the situation.

 

Turnesly had a large and impressive member. Jan had seen it free a few times, but he was most accustomed to viewing it trapped, as Turnesly preferred to keep it, in a little cage of thin bronze strips that tied shut behind his proportionately large balls. This was how it was now, contained in a space too small for it, and at the moment, it was doing its best to be hard, despite its restraints. 

 

“Eager this evening, my lord?” Jan said politely.

 

“Yes…” Turnesly shifted again.

 

“Don’t worry, my lord, we’ll take care of that.” Jan leaned over the edge of the tub somewhat and reached in. Turnesly made a little noise when his trapped cock was taken hold of, which told Jan that tonight’s session would be intense—Turnesly was a stoic man, not prone to more than a little sigh here and there in this arena. No matter. Jan would do his duty tirelessly.

 

The bulges of flesh between the confines of the cage were hot, and they pulsed beneath his fingers. Inviting, but not the target of Jan’s attentions. That lay lower, and he slid his hand further down, pausing to briefly cup his master’s balls before proceeding to his ultimate goal, moving by feel. There was the sensitive taint, which was pressed gently, and then wood. 

 

“How was it today, my lord?” Jan asked as he worked his fingers under the handle. It was resistant this evening.

 

“It was all right until I rode,” Turnesly said. He rested his head back against the tub. “Then it was unbearable. Shifting, thudding, always unpredictable.”

 

Jan nodded sympathetically. He got a finger around each side of the handle and closed his hand a little, shifting the plug.

 

Turnesly’s stomach rose as he took in a deep breath. His back arched a touch, and Jan saw his cock tremble in its bonds as he tensed his muscles there.

 

“There, my lord,” Jan said. “I have it.” He thumbed the center of the plug’s handle, pressing it back into his lord’s ass a little, before gently pulling again. Another finger rested on the rim of Turnesly’s hole, keeping track of the stretch. It was clenched around the narrow base at the moment, but with the pulls, it was starting to widen.

 

This was not Lord Turnesly’s only plug, nor was it his largest (to Jan’s knowledge, Turnesly had never yet been able to accommodate that particular oaken monstrosity), but it was the most intense of the set that he brought along with him for travel. Apart from his tourney plugs, these travel ones were the smallest, and only one of them was made of metal, unlike the plugs that never left the manor, which were mainly cast in heavy bronze. This plug was not like that, but it did feature countless smoothly polished bumps, ridges, and swells, which made it challenging.

 

Jan turned the plug a little, and Turnesly shuddered around it. He pulled it further, stretching his master’s ass wider and wider and wider until the man groaned, and then he turned it further. The curved handle was meant to rest along the wearer’s taint, but Jan enjoyed setting the handle’s prongs differently, one on each cheek. Then he released, and Turnesly’s hole immediately pulled it back in. The ends of the handles dug in hard, and Jan let his lord struggle for a few moments, straining ass trying to decide whether the stinging pain of the stretch or the bruising pain of the handle was worse.

 

He relieved the discomfort quickly by pulling the plug out far enough to turn it back to its usual position and letting it slap back hard. “Comfortable, my lord?”

 

“Not especially,” Turnesly grunted. “Go on, get moving.”

 

“Of course, my lord.” 

 

It took a long while to work the lord’s ass open that evening, and by the time Jan could pull the plug out almost to its widest point, Turnesly was panting. His chest rose and fell, but beneath that, there was another rhythm, one of tensing and relaxing, and Jan worked with it, pulling the plug well out when the ring of muscle released and enjoying himself when the squeezing found Turnesly clenching involuntarily around a part of the plug that was altogether too wide for that.

 

He followed both rhythms, as well as a third one of his own invention, pulling out, pushing in, pulling out, pushing in. He mixed it up occasionally with a longer pull, or a deeper push, or a strategically placed finger on the softening rim. He kept up a steady stream of polite, quiet encouragement all the while. “That’s it, my lord. Go on, let it out. Now help bring it back in, my lord, really pull it inside you, help me get in there…” He could feel his own stirrings when his lord’s ass obligingly clenched tight at his word, pulling the handle of the plug flush. 

 

“Get on with it,” Turnesly said finally. 

 

“All in good time, my lord,” Jan said, and he couldn’t conceal his own enjoyment. “I believe you need to be a little wider yet.”

 

“Any wider and it’s like to fall out,” Turnesly growled. But his eyes were closed, there was a deep red flush on his chest and neck, that poor trapped cock of his was almost purple in its restraints, twitching wildly, and his ass was hugging at the nubs and bumps of the plug as if it didn’t want to let go.

 

Still, Turnesly was his employer, and Jan obeyed him a little. He did one more round of a long pull followed by a deep push, and then he moved on. He began to work the plug back and forth a little faster, and then, several minutes later, a little faster than that, and even later, a little faster still, until his moving arm was sloshing water loudly, and Turnesly was shifting and letting out long, heavy breaths that weren’t exactly moans, but could almost be. Then he added a bit of a twist, ramming the plug home with a sharp turn that ground all those carved and polished details up against his lord’s stretched insides, and large hands gripped the sides of the tub so hard that the movement ran all up powerful arms and scrunched up his neck and shoulders like an accordion.

 

“A little—a little up—” Turnesly hissed between thrusts. Jan obliged, and the next thrust had the lord jamming his hips down, trying to follow the plug as it pulled out of him. He didn’t manage it, but he didn’t have to wait long; Jan conscientiously shoved it back in with the force of a punch. Then he did it again, and again.

 

A quarter of an hour later, Jan’s arm was brutally sore, despite having slowed down considerably, Turnesly was writhing and digging his fingers into the tub, and the desperate little cock still hadn’t managed to let loose. It looked as if it might be able to break out of its cage on its own if this were kept up for much longer, but nothing had yet clouded the water.

 

“Touch it,” Turnesly gasped between thrusts. “Touch it, we’re not going to get anywhere like this.”

 

“No,” Jan said flatly.

 

Turnesly’s eyes flew open. “What did you say?”

 

Jan never ceased his thrusting. “My lord, if you’ll recall, you had me swear that I was never to bring you off with your cock, no matter what you said, no matter how you begged.”

 

“I—” Turnesly bit off something that was obviously going to be vicious and instead said, “I’m giving you an order. That’s— _ oh— _ hardly begging.”

 

“I signed my contract of employment, my lord, and I intend to abide by it.”

 

“Balls, then.” There was desperation in Turnesly’s voice.

 

“No, my lord.” Jan pulled the plug to its widest point and paused briefly. “Go on, my lord. You can come from this. I’ve seen you do it many times.”

 

“Not tonight,” Turnesly said, and it was almost pleading. “Not tonight, I just want to finish.”

 

“I said  _ no,  _ my lord.” The plug shoved back in, hard, and the lord shuddered. “Look at you, shaking and spreading around this. Your cock’s perfectly ready to spill, if you’d only try just a little harder.” He leaned in and caught Turnesly’s jaw, so that the pale eyes opened and looked into his. “I’m going to keep fucking you with this, my lord.” He yanked it back to the widest part. “I’m going to keep fucking you with this until you come like a fountain, and I will work all night long if I have to. Is that clear, my lord?”

 

“You bloody—” Turnesly cut off with a groan as the toy hit his insides again. Jan patted him gently on the cheek.

 

Jan had to switch arms only a few thrusts in, and his left arm was more awkward, but the renewed force was enough to have Turnesly’s noises getting louder, his movements more desperate. The plug went in, out, in, out, in, out, Turnesly’s cock throbbed erratically, and Jan’s cock pressed against the side of the tub in his breeches, wondering why it wasn’t getting any attention.

 

_ “Please,”  _ Turnesly groaned. “Please, just—a little touch, that’s all, just—oh  _ please.”  _

 

Jan didn’t bother shaking his head. He just pushed harder. “You’re better than that, my lord.”

 

“I can’t,” the lord panted readily. “I can’t, please—please, I’m  _ so  _ hard—”

 

“Not hard enough, clearly. My lord, you may be aging, but you’re still potent, and your will is undaunted. You’re perfectly capable of finishing like this. You need only concentrate.”

 

Turnesly groaned in frustration. “Just  _ finish  _ it, lad, just,  _ oh,  _ just touch me, I’m  _ close.”  _

 

“No.” Jan considered briefly, debating the wisest course, before deciding to speed up. He didn’t pull the plug almost free of Turnesly’s ass before slamming it home, but focused on quick, sharp thrusts that jabbed the place inside that the lord enjoyed so deeply. Fast thrusts, the plug’s bumps, ridges, and nubs darting in and out, back and forth across the lord’s rim and insides, and he added an erratic twisting motion to his rhythm. That would be a satisfying mix of sensations, surely. 

 

Turnesly certainly seemed to think so. He writhed in the tub, arms shaking as his corded hands clenched the sides of the tub, crumpling the linen lining.  _ “Oh,”  _ he groaned. His hips shuddered, frantically trying to angle themselves to maximize the sensation. “That’s— _ close!”  _

 

“You’re nearly there, my lord,” Jan said. His arm was painfully sore, but he sped up again, striking with enough force that Turnesly’s stomach shuddered from the blows. Any moment now, surely. At any moment, that swollen, straining cock, with heavy balls pulled up tight against the metal restraints, would spill over. Turnesly’s ass would contract, squeezing hard around the plug, his face would draw up in that expression that could pass for agony, his eyes would screw shut, and he would groan like a beast with the force of  his finish.

 

Lord Turnesly’s hand suddenly shifted, striking like a viper, and fingers dug painfully into Jan’s back. Turnesly’s hips lifted almost entirely out of the bathwater, the muscles of his torso clenched, and his trapped cock let loose a line of seed that landed on his bare thigh. Several more followed, accompanied by harsh, breathy gasps, and then Turnesly’s trembling body lowered itself back into the water to rest in the tub, loose and heavy. His fingers released Jan’s back and slapped him weakly on the shoulder.

 

Jan eased the plug gently back into place to a soft moan. “Well done, my lord. I’ll just clean you up.” He retrieved the cloth and wiped his master down, removing the accumulated seed and sweat.

 

Turnesly sighed and opened his eyes. “Boy, when we return to my estate, you will have to learn a thing or two about obeying me.”

 

“I know, my lord,” Jan said. He was looking forward to the prospect.

**Author's Note:**

> I was digging through some porn WIPs and found this one almost finished, so I cleaned it up and posted.


End file.
